


More Than A Friend

by FangQueen



Category: South Park
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Fluff and Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marijuana, Semi-Public Sex, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangQueen/pseuds/FangQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What?”</p><p>He hadn’t realized that Pete had finally torn his eyes away from the other car and was staring straight back at him till he said something. He blinked, feeling trapped and not knowing what to say. Then the slighter boy’s eyes took on that mischievous glint that always got them into trouble, and he added:</p><p>“You wanna make out, or something?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than A Friend

As the sun set on South Park, a cool breeze that signalled the coming snowstorm rustling through the trees, a collection of cars congregated on the edge of the cliff overlooking the town--a common sight on a weekend such as this. The high schoolers had turned the area into a “makeout point” of sorts. And, for some of them, it was just that. A few had found various other practical uses for the location, namely a pair of all-black clad boys currently lounging in the one’s dark blue Civic.

Michael slowly exhaled a large puff of cigarette smoke, the last remnants of pot lingering in the air of the cab flowing out with it through the cracked window beside him. He leaned back in his slightly reclined seat and turned to flick ash into the red party cup in the holder between them, filled halfway with water, and with several other cigarettes and their spent blunt of earlier floating in it. His body was buzzing pleasantly, and he sighed inwardly at the warmth from the heater and the thrum of the beat rumbling in his chest from the Siouxsie Sioux song pouring through the speakers.

“Hey, dude.”

If he wasn’t so unbelievably relaxed right now, he would’ve been startled to hear Pete’s voice. They hadn’t spoken in quite awhile, simply luxuriating in their mild highs and the comfort of each other’s company without their usual tagalongs. Not that they didn’t like Henrietta and Firkle well enough, but it was nice to hang out just the two of them sometimes. They hadn’t even had to try for it this time, either; Henrietta had finally given in to studying for her world history final, after she realized she probably wouldn’t pass junior year without getting a decent grade on it, and Firkle had been grounded for “accidentally” starting a fire in his chemistry class.

“What?”

“That chick that pulled up behind us? With that jock? I think they’re banging in there now.”

“Yeah?”

Michael glanced in the rearview mirror, unable to keep himself from laughing out loud when he saw it, and Pete joined him. It appeared as if the grossly typical quarterback-cheerleader couple that had parked just behind them a few minutes ago were now trying to squeeze their way into the backseat. The elder goth even thought he saw the guy toss his girlfriend’s top over his shoulder. Could they get any more obvious? He supposed he couldn’t blame them, though; that was technically what this place was for, after all.

The buzz of Pete’s phone, lying forgotten on his thigh, distracted them momentarily. He picked it up and grinned down at the screen.

“That Henrietta?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, giggling at whatever it was she’d texted him, immediately covering his mouth on instinct at the sound. If anyone else had been around, he might’ve just died of shame, but recently with Michael he’d stopped caring as much. The taller boy found it adorable, actually, if he was being honest, but he knew he’d be signing his death certificate if he ever told him that.

“She need us to come pick her up, or what?”

“Nah, she’s still got a lot of shit to go through. But she says she’s debating whether or not she can get away with murdering her teacher instead.”

Michael snorted in amusement, and the car returned to its prior silence, save for the music and the occasional vibration, followed by the clacking of keys, of Pete’s phone. The former briefly contemplated sparking up the second blunt he’d rolled for them earlier, but as he leaned over to dig it out of the glove compartment, he caught his redheaded friend checking out that couple again via the side mirror to his right, a mixture of emotions on his face. Michael glanced once more in the rearview and saw that they were now nowhere to found, and the car they’d arrived in was rocking from side to side.

“The hell?”

“I know, right?”

The laugh they shared was more awkward this time than the last. Michael shifted in his seat, feeling, well...a little jealous. Looked like those two were having a good time together, even if the very idea of them and their relationship was against everything he believed in. What he wouldn’t give, though, to have someone like that...He hated himself for the way his gaze traveled towards Pete’s face at the thought, to his bangs as he flicked them out of his eyes for the millionth time that night, then down to his lips. Those snakebites suited him; Michael was glad he’d chosen to get them done. He sucked the back of one of the posts between his teeth at that moment, effectively biting his bottom lip in the process, and Michael felt his insides twist themselves into knots.

“What?”

He hadn’t realized that Pete had finally torn his eyes away from the other car and was staring straight back at him till he said something. He blinked, feeling trapped and not knowing what to say. Then the slighter boy’s eyes took on that mischievous glint that always got them into trouble, and he added:

“You wanna make out, or something?”

Michael shrugged, but his heart was hammering against his ribcage just at the suggestion. It was obvious that the way Pete crawled over the divider to straddle his lap was supposed to be graceful, although it merely resulted in causing both of them to jump as his ass accidentally tapped the horn, and they were chuckling when their lips met. How Michael’s hands shook at the idea of touching him, one would think this was their first time doing such a thing. Quite to the contrary, it seemed to be more and more often lately. He tilted his head and slipped his tongue into Pete’s mouth with practised ease. That much, he knew how to do--and his friend was damn near an expert, in his opinion. It was everything else that set him on edge.

It took less time than usual for their kisses to turn frantic. At one point, his hands slid down to grip Pete’s thighs just under his pert cheeks, and when his companion rolled his hips down to meet his, Michael was sort of awestruck to discover how hard he was. He thrust his matching erection up against him, and Pete responded with a pretty little moan that set his nerves on fire. He groaned in return as he slipped a hand under the redhead’s faded Cthulhu t-shirt and pressed the small of his back, setting them to, for all intensive purposes, dry humping each other as best they could in the confined space.

This was, quite infamously, the point at which they’d typically stop. Whether Pete was just as unsure as he about moving forward, or simply wasn’t interested in doing so, Michael had yet to find out. They were both virgins, and only relatively experienced in other areas, but they’d at least talked about sex before--as often and in as much detail as any two curious, male teenagers would. Michael didn’t know why the subject of _them_ having sex had always seemed to be an uncomfortable one. He wanted to, but he didn’t want to force himself on the kid if he wasn’t up for it. He was a year older; he was supposed to be the more responsible one. Wasn’t he? However, this time, Pete rocked into him once more and bit his bottom lip till he heard him growl, before pulling back to flash him an anxious grin.

“Do you wanna...like...?” And Michael knew--just _knew_ \--by his expression what that implied. Everything in this universe, give him strength, because there was no way he could turn down an invitation as blatant as that, not after all this time.

“I wanna make you come.”

The words flew out so fast, he didn’t have a second to catch himself. Pete was suddenly leaning back, looking at him with raised eyebrows, and he thought for sure he’d fucked this whole thing up. Goddamnit, he’d freaked him out. He’d tried to move too fast. And now he’d never get another chance at this again. It was just something he’d been thinking about for so long, his brain was overloaded with wondering what Pete would taste like, sound like, look like, squirming and moaning beneath him. He was embarrassed, and so decidedly _ungoth_ , and wishing he could just go hide. But then Pete licked his lips and whispered:

“Y-yeah? I’d, uh...really like that…”

The heat between them was palpable. Michael supposed that it always had been, in a way. He just didn't know why it had taken him so long to see it, to see that the sidelong glances his best friend had been giving him weren’t just that. They kissed again, aggressive and desperate, and then Pete was climbing into the backseat and pulling him along with him--although it was a bit more of a struggle for the taller boy.

They collapsed in a tangle of grasping limbs, their lips tearing at each other like they both wanted to crawl inside their counterpart’s skin. Michael ran his tongue along Pete’s jaw and down to nibble his neck, goaded on once he got there by the sounds his friend made. Eventually, he slithered his way over the smaller boy’s chest, pushing up his shirt so that he could lick and bite around his belly button. With his height, he ended up off of the seat entirely, kneeling on the floor of the car, and with his friend hanging half off of it as he settled between his legs. When he clamped his teeth on the skin by his hip bone, Pete cried out in pleasure and bucked his hips.

Seemingly embarrassed by his reaction, he stammered, “C-careful, dude!”

“Shut up, you love it,” Michael winked up at him, and his companion let loose a rare laugh and scolded him playfully: “Ass.” Michael continued this treatment until it sounded like Pete might throw a punch if he didn't get on with it, and his hands hesitated at his zipper. “Uh, it’s okay if I--?”

“Don't be a pussy, man.” Then, softer: “I-I mean...Yeah. Of course.”

Pete kicked away his shoes, and then they both worked to wrestle off his painted-on jeans and briefs. His engorged dick sprang out to lay flush against his abdomen, the head already red and glistening. Michael grinned up at him, and Pete rolled his eyes and looked away, but he was panting as soon as the senior bent over and lapped at the base before taking the majority into his mouth. As he bobbed along his length, Pete reached down to thread his fingers through Michael’s curly locks, tugging a bit with every breathless noise he made. The latter closed his eyes in bliss, getting off on the taste of his skin alone. He snaked a hand under him, squeezing that ass that he always caught himself staring at, ghosting his fingers along the crack in the middle.

It took him by surprise when Pete suddenly arched forcefully into the back of his throat, and he had to breathe deep through his nose to prevent himself from gagging. Peeking up at the boy, he could see his face scrunched up in pleasure, his bottom lip caught between his teeth again, and he felt emboldened. Michael then risked dipping his pointer finger into the space, searching for his entrance. He circled the pad around the quivering hole, and he could both feel as well as hear Pete’s enthusiastic response. He continued to rub the spot until the redhead tapped him frantically on his shoulder to get his attention, then gestured to his forgotten jeans on the floor beside him.

“In the front. No, the left one.” Michael dipped his hand into first the right pocket--where he found Pete’s phone--then into the other one, coming back out that time with a handful of a tiny, puffy packets…

“Really, dude?”

“What?”

“Were you _expecting_ something, or do you just always carry lube?”

“Shut up. I swiped them from Spencer’s earlier--”

“Because…?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

Chuckling to himself, Michael picked out one of the golden-colored ones and read the label. Then he was looking at Pete with a vaguely condescending expression. “Really? Fucking piña colada?”

The shameful flush to his cheeks was priceless. He flicked his hair and huffed, “It still works, doesn't it? What's the difference? Now c’mon,” he punctuated the statement by canting his hips, and Michael didn't need to be told twice.

He tore open two of the small pouches and poured their contents over the fingers of his right hand. As he returned Pete’s length to his mouth, he, once more, slipped his hand underneath him and prodded his puckered hole. The redhead whimpered as he pressed the first digit inside. It was so tight and hot, and all he wanted right now was to just take him, but he knew he had to be patient. Once again, he found himself thinking about how he’d never expected to even get this far, and if he moved too fast, he might just ruin everything. While he suckled the head of Pete’s cock, Michael gently moved his finger in and out, stretching it just enough to include a second one.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Pete moaned as he did so. When Michael hooked his fingers and rubbed the pulsepoint he’d found inside him, the boy’s hips jolted as he nearly sobbed. “Oh! Shhhhit…” His keening noises increased in volume as the taller young man continued to stroke the spot. Soon, he was wiggling away from him, hissing in warning, “Christ, dude, I’m gonna come…” A surge of arousal pulsing through him at the remark, Michael swirled his tongue around the head and pressed into his prostate till Pete was convulsing under him and squirting hot globs of it down his throat with a strangled cry that had Michael rushing up to capture his lips again as soon as he’d swallowed.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Pete whispered, eyes half-lidded in his post-orgasmic haze.

“I wanted to.” And he was also kind of loving how smudged Pete’s eyeliner was at the corners now.

The redhead looked like that hadn’t been the answer he was expecting. His eyes clouding over in a way Michael had never seen before, Pete cupped the still-clothed male through his pants and said, “I want _you_.”

“Y-yeah?” Michael stuttered, hating how his voice cracked as if he was prepubescent again. He’d been wanting to take care of his friend like that for a long time, but he hadn’t expected that would mean they’d actually go all the way tonight...He didn’t know if he was ready for Pete to see him yet. Not that the words themselves didn’t make his cock throb, but...

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to?”

“O-of course I do! It’s just…”

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t have a condom. Do you?”

“No. But I trust you. I know you haven’t...And I haven’t either, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, but--”

 

“But what?”

“Well…” Michael chewed his lip, trying to come up with the best way to explain it. Hell, Pete had just come in his mouth; they’d shared almost every intimate thing that they could. If he couldn’t talk to him about this, then everything else about their friendship was meaningless. “I’m just not, you know...very impressive, I guess,” he finished under his breath, but he could tell by the way Pete was looking at him that he’d heard.

The younger boy smiled then and reached up with his thumb and forefinger to worry the cross hanging from Michael’s left earlobe. That wasn’t fair; he knew for a fact that made him weak. “You think I care about that? It doesn’t matter, dude. I want you anyway.”

They kissed again while he unbuckled his belt and slid everything down to his ankles. Pete made a point of staring straight at his crotch, and the way he licked his lips made the bottom drop out of Michael’s stomach. That was enough validation for him at the moment, so he retrieved two more lube packets from the floor and lathered his dick before lining it up to push inside. It was a stretch, even for all the prepping Michael had done, but he took it slow, only moving forward whenever Pete let him know it was okay to do so. When he was finally fully sheathed, they remained mostly still and kissed languidly, until the boy beneath him asked him to start moving.

Even with the steady pace he set to start, Michael knew he wasn’t going to last long. He’d never felt anything so… _good_ , so right, in his entire life. It was better than he’d ever imagined it would be. Pete was tight and hot, and he kept arching into every thrust and whispering encouraging things about how amazing he felt in his ear. Michael wanted to answer, but was too overwhelmed with each sensation to find the words. It was fantastic. And it was over way too soon.

Michael groaned and came absurdly hard inside of Pete for how little time he’d spent there. Even his legs trembled, and he could barely catch his breath. All of that was embarrassing in itself, but for what came out of his mouth immediately afterwards…

“I love you.”

No. No, why, why the fuck did he say that? And Pete was gazing up at him, unmoving, eyes wide in what he could only interpret as panic. He pulled out and away from him too quickly, causing them both to hiss. Within seconds, Michael had his pants back on, and he was resting on the divider between the front seats, feeling like he might vomit if he opened his mouth again. Pete looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself yet, but he eventually settled for getting redressed himself, muttering in a voice that was almost inaudible:

“Sooooo, should we...be heading home, then?”

“Y-yeah. Sure. Whatever you want.”

The drive back was excruciating. Michael felt like he should say something, but he knew that if it wasn’t a way to excuse his clearly unwanted outburst, then it wasn’t going to be good enough. Although, the thing of it was...he didn’t necessarily regret it. He’d felt that way for awhile, even if he knew that that was the least goth emotion he could possibly have, and despite how much he insisted that romance wasn’t worth anyone’s time because of what happened to his parents and everything...he did love Pete. It just hurt more than he had words to describe that it didn’t appear as if his best friend felt the same way…

At the entrance to the trailer park, Pete told him he could just stop there. He asked if he was sure, and the younger goth nodded, assuring him that he’d be fine walking from there. Michael tried to ignore the lingering look the boy was giving him and resisted the urge to call him back before he shut the door.

As he pulled away from the gate, heart like a lead weight in his chest, he forced himself to focus on driving. He knew that if he paused to think about anything else, he’d lose it. However, about five minutes down the road, he suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. At the next red light, he pulled it out and swiped it open. There, on the screen shining up at him, piercing through the otherwise darkness of the car, was a text from Pete that read:

_Hey can it just be us again tomorrow?_

Michael furrowed his brow, thinking that of course it could be, he was just ecstatic his best friend was even still talking to him at this point. Then it buzzed twice more and another couple messages popped up that made his heart stop.

_Btw ur an asshole and I love you too  
So we makin this official or what?_

The honk from the car behind him startled him, and he almost dropped his phone in his hurry to accelerate through the now green light. Nervous laughter burst from his throat as he wiped at the tears welling in his eyes. Shit, he was so glad no one was around to see him like this: mascara running over his cheeks like some cheesy after school special. It was the happiest he’d felt in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments = <3!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://ohlookagaydraco.tumblr.com/) and [LJ](http://fangqueen.livejournal.com/) as well!


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